Daniel's Boxer Shorts Fiasco
by Lament
Summary: Daniel has a bad day.


Disclaimer:  They're not mine.  I'm not making any money off 'em.

Author's Notes:  Warning: This story contains some mention of a romantic relationship between Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson.  Nothing major; but be warned. This story also abounds with lighthearted references to Daniel's boxer shorts.

Daniel's Boxer Shorts Fiasco

I fumbled through the contents of my desk for the third time, scooting around files and lifting up the occasional artifact.  I was on a mission.  Technically, I was supposed to be off today, but I had gotten inspired to come into the office to finish a translation.  I had managed to get my work done in no time, which thrilled Jack, because he wanted me to go out for dinner with him.  Now, however, my dinner plans were being thwarted by a missing set of car keys.  

Sighing, I dropped myself into the chair behind my desk, and began to lament my decision to get an apartment off-base.  It had certainly simplified my life when I kept quarters here in the mountain. At least if I still lived on-base, I wouldn't have to rush home to change before I met Jack.  I frowned.  _Change?_ I thought to myself.  _Into what?  You haven't done laundry in ages. This was a wonderful and well-timed revelation.  I was wearing my last clean set of clothes, and I had had to hunt around for them.   So, now I had no way home, and nothing to wear tonight.  If I ever did manage to get out of here, I was going to have to meet Jack dressed in khakis and a t-shirt._

"Hey, Daniel," Sam said, as she poked her head into my disheveled office.  "You still here?  I just got finished up in the lab myself."  

I smiled at her.  As much time as she spent in the lab, _she_ should've moved into the mountain.  "I was on my way out, but I can't find my car keys."  

Sam glanced casually around the office.  She walked over to one of my bookshelves, and scooped something into her hand.  "Are these them?" she asked.

I let out an exasperated breath.  Of course.  Ten seconds in my office, and Sam managed to find the keys I had spent twenty-five laborious minutes looking in vain for.  "Thanks," I said, grinning sheepishly.

At that moment, the siren began to sound from the gate room, signaling the arrival of a passenger through the Stargate.  "Might be SG-7," I said casually.  They were due back.  

Sam nodded.  We both left my office, and headed for the gate room.  I was always curious to see what the other teams brought back from their missions, and since I had no reason to rush home, I could visit with them before my dinner date with Jack.

"Plans tonight?" Sam asked.

"With Jack," I replied.  

She just smiled, and we continued walking.  I didn't know if Sam had figured out that my relationship with Jack had moved beyond friendship.  If she had, she had never let on.  "Where were they again?" I wondered, waving at a pair approaching airmen.  Both were pushing carts filled with artifacts.

"SG-7?  On P—"

"Ow!"  I shouted, suddenly feeling a sharp pain in my leg.  The airman who had been in front decided to stop suddenly, while the one behind him…well…didn't.  Consequently, the second airman collided with the first one, sending artifacts flying in all directions.   One of those artifacts, apparently a piece of broken pottery, managed to find its way to my leg, leaving a tear in my pants, and a gash on my thigh. 

"Daniel, are you all right?"  Sam shouted.  She turned to the airmen.  "Get this cleaned up!" she ordered. Grabbing me by the arm, she guided toward the infirmary.  Jack was going to love this.

Janet ran up to meet us as we walked into the infirmary.  While I liked Janet, she was the last person I wanted to see today.  This was her kingdom, and trips to her kingdom tended to be a little longer-term than I cared for.  "What happened?" she asked. 

Sam explained, as she and Janet helped me onto an examination table.  I glanced down at my pants, trying to assess the damage to my leg.  I reached my hand down, and gingerly touched the wound.

"Stop it," Janet said, slapping my hand.  "_Honestly_."  She pulled on a pair of gloves, and leaned forward to examine my injury.  Narrowing her eyes, she pressed on the wound with her fingers.  I'm sure she thought she was being gentle, but her touch sent a sharp arrow of pain coursing my thigh.

"Ow! Ow! _Ow_!" I yelled, scowling.  "That's just what you told me not to do."

She grinned.  "Okay, off with the pants."

I reached for the button of my trousers, and then stopped short.  'I'd rather not," I told her.  The last thing I needed to do right now was remove my pants.

Sighing, she said, "Grow up, Daniel.  I've seen you in your underwear before."

_Not these underwear_, I thought wildly.  "Janet can't you just—" 

"No, I can't just."  She crossed her arms, menacingly.  

I took a deep breath, and tugged my pants down, wincing as the fabric pulled away from my wound.  My cheeks began to burn before I ever saw the looks on the faces of my two friends.  Since I had neglected to do laundry today, I found myself forced to wear the only pair of clean underwear I had left—black silk boxers decorated with what were supposed to be neon green aliens.

I chanced a look in Sam's direction.  She was turning a bright shade of red, not out of embarrassment, but out of amusement.  She was biting her bottom lip in an attempt to keep herself from laughing out loud.  "Those are adorable, Daniel," she snickered.

Janet was smiling, but it was obvious from the tremor in her bottom lip that she fighting to maintain her composure.  "They're not standard issue Air Force brand," she declared.  "Hold still.  I need to clean this."

"Okay, they're funny.  Ha. Ha."  I just wanted to get my injury patched up and go meet Jack.

"Where did you get them?" Sam asked, still chuckling.  "You didn't buy them for yourself?"

About this time, Teal'c wandered in, and began to watch our verbal exchange with interest.  He glanced down at my boxer shorts, raised one eyebrow, and then focused his attention on my face.

I sighed.  Wonderful.  Now Teal'c knew I owned underwear adorned with cartoon aliens.  "They were a gift from Jack," I explained.  As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I shouldn't have said them.  The last thing I needed was for my teammates and doctor to know that our CO had bought me underwear.  "They were a gag gift for my birthday," I added weakly.

"O'Neill has never purchased undergarments for me," Teal'c said, smiling.

_And O'Neill better never purchase you undergarments, if he knows what's good for him_, I thought.

By this time, Sam had given up any attempt to control her mirth.  Between loud bursts of laughter, she said, "The little aliens look like Thor!"

I groaned.  That was an image that would stay with me.  "Are you almost finished?" I asked Janet, who was now applying some kind of ointment to my wound.  

"Just settle down," she snickered.

Just then, a soothing voice asked, "What happened, Dr. Jackson?" General Hammond entered the room, followed by Jacob Carter.  Wonderful.  My underwear were drawing a crowd.

"Projectile pottery," I said.

Hammond nodded, smiling gently.  He turned to Sam, who had already crossed the room to greet her father.  At least Hammond's presence had encouraged Sam to stifle her laughter. "Jacob wants to steal you away from us for a few days.  I said that wouldn't be a problem."

Jacob nodded at me as he embraced his daughter.  "Hello Danny," he said.  Then he added jovially, "Nice underwear." 

I feigned a grateful smile.  "Thanks."

"Well, people," Hammond intoned.  "Maybe we should give Dr. Jackson a little privacy."

_Thank you, General Hammond_, I thought.  

Hammond strode quickly out the door, holding one hand up to his mouth as he left.  Sam, Teal'c, and Jacob followed suit, Sam turning back to flash me a broad grin and mouth the word, "Thor."  

After they were gone, I sat there quietly, allowing Janet to finish dressing my wound.  I sighed, thankful that this fiasco was almost at an end.

"I can't let you out of my sight for one minute, can I?" I looked up to see Jack, standing with his hands in the pockets of his jacket.  He cocked his head to look at me, and grinned.  "Heard everyone liked the boxer shorts."

"We loved them," Janet said, pulling off the gloves.  "All done, Daniel.  Keep out of the way of flying pottery for a least a week."

"Can I get him out of here, Doc?" Jack asked.  

Janet nodded.  "You sure can, Colonel."  Smiling, she walked back to her office, leaving Jack and me alone.

Jack smirked.  "I figured you'd still be holed up in your office."

"In fact, I am all done with the translation," I said proudly.  

He helped me down from the examination table.  "Then let's get out of here. We can swing by your place so you can drop off your car and get changed."

"Actually, Jack," I said apologetically, "do you mind if we stay in?  I have no clean clothes.  We can order pizza and talk while I do laundry."

Jack pursed his lips as he considered my suggestion.  He nodded.  "You place it is."  Then he grinned mischievously.  "But after seeing you in those underwear, I don't think I want to do much talking." 


End file.
